back to school

Today I woke up, put on my newly aquired hooker boots, and headed off to the university. As I walked down the street, I watched parents and children walk hand in hand to meet their new teachers. The boys all wearing suits and girls in their pigs tails sans huge white lace pom poms. Ine Kyrgyzstan; the bigger the pom pom, the better the student. Each parent reflected the look of relief that the summer is finally over and their beautiful and smart children are getting out of the house.

I keep thinking about that Staples commerial. "It's the most wonderful time of the year" playing in the background, dad skipping through the aisles, kids looking crushed... shopping for back to school supplies.

I went to the university this weekend and found the teachers spread out across the lounge with the new materials I had bought with the money raised in the spring. Darika, the senior teacher, pulled me aside to congratulate me on the excellent book selection and how it will imporve the first year curriculum. Today we will start the curriculum mapping and putting together the next 4 months. It's exciting to finally see the project come alive.

sidenote: my biggest fear of coming back to kyrgyzstan was getting violently ill all over again. somehow i dodged it this time and the only conclusion i can come up with is that i must really have bowels of steel.

i am strong and full of sushi. Bring on the fatty butt sheep!!

the glass is half finished

Spent the last three weeks visiting family and friends in America. When I was trying to decide whether I was going to go, part of me really didn't want to. I questioned myself. What if the adjustment is too hard? What if I don't want to go back to Kyrgyzstan? What will it be like seeing my family? Is going home for 20 days enough time? Do I really want to go through another set of goodbyes? How do I even begin to explain living in Kyrgyzstan?
After being in NH for 2 weeks and a week in Tahoe, my last question is the one I struggled with the most. People ask, "how has the last year been?" and all I can say is, "it's a trip." They kind of look at me expecting more, and I look at them, trying to decided where I could possibly begin. The last year has provided me with the highest ups and the lowest downs of my life. How do you explain the bonds of PC volunteers created through getting so ill you shit your pants? Or smiling to yourself because you finally understand the quirks of a culture, or tasting the best watermelon of your life and accidentally eating the whole melon in one sitting, or realizing people are counting on you to help make their lives better, or that although local friends love you... you will always be American and you will never really belong.
It's just easier to tell them to look at the pictures on facebook.